


right in front of my pilsner?

by lunarProtector



Series: thread fic [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Biker Keith, Cis Keith (Voltron), Cis Shiro (Voltron), Glove Kink, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Third Party Perspective, Truck Stop AU, Under-negotiated Kink, shiro is 30 keith is 21, trucker shiro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25352419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarProtector/pseuds/lunarProtector
Summary: “I’ll have what he’s having,” Keith says, clearly eyeing the man at the bar more closely than the beer itself. Sal spares a glance to Shirogane, who seems to be returning the interest. Just his luck that Sal has to witness a whirlwind romance up close and personal, and no mute button to save him.-------Update: It's explicit now, and multi-chaptered! wow!
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: thread fic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836001
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

They find each other at a halfway point; the liminal space of a truck stop, some gas stations, a Denny's, and the only bar for a hundred miles in either direction on a desolate desert highway. The only permanent residents on the two square mile stretch of land are Sal, the bar owner, and the colony of feral cats that gathers behind the Denny's to fight for scraps. Everyone else is transient, leaving only trash and fumes behind as they try to reach their destinations. 

Despite the many faces that pass through, Sal could tell you if he sees a newcomer, as the only people who pass through his watering hole are truckers and bikers. He may not get a hell of a lot of business, but he gets good business, and good tips. So Sal knows he's never seen the fella with the metal arm and scar across his nose before. He's got no jacket on, so he must be a trucker. He gives a short wave and a smile as he sits at the bar and sets his hat down; polite. He'll probably tip well. Sal gives him a nod and walks over to take his order. 

"Vets get a discount," he starts, pointing to a worn out sign behind him. It reads "If You Got I.D., Your First Beer's Free" with the silhouetted image of a soldier saluting and tipping back a bottle. 

The man chuckles. 

"I'll drink to that," and the stranger pulls out his wallet, sliding his VA card and license.

Takashi Shirogane. Air Force. Medal of honor, purple heart, former POW. Old enough to drink, and too young for the streak of white in his hair.

Sal slides the cards back to him. The rest of their conversation is short, Shirogane says his thanks as Sal pops the cap from his beer, and they both turn their attention to the telltale rumble of a pack of bikes rolling up to the lot. Based on the size of the group and the peek of purple and black he spots through the window, Sal knows it's the Blade of Marmora. He waves his two lounging employees, Rolo and Nyma, toward the kitchen. It’s a relief when Rolo hands him the remote to the bar’s only TV-- all those two watch are telenovelas, and Sal is starting to get tired of wild love stories and family scandals.

"Let Beezer know it's a Blade order, fries out first," he tells them. 

"You got it, boss," Rolo replies, heading straight back. Nyma stops for a second to ask if Shirogane wants any food before the rush, but he gives a quick 'no, thank you' and turns just enough to watch the leather-clad crowd walk in the front door. 

The Blade’s not a gang, not officially, but whether or not you know that, they make an intimidating bunch. Anyone looking for a fight could tell they were well out-matched from a single glance. If not for the average stature of each of them, then for their unflappable calm, keen eyes and ears, and uncanny grace. But if you’re stupid enough to try anyway? It’d be wise not to underestimate even the shortest Blade, with a short temper to match.

Well, maybe “short” isn’t the best word to describe him anymore-- at least physically. In the three months since the Blades last rolled through, Sal can tell that Keith is finally starting to fill out the jacket and boots that seemed too big on him not long ago. With the boots he might even be pushing six feet tall. 

Sal shakes his head. It’s not like him to get sentimental, and he doesn’t plan on starting now.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Keith says, clearly eyeing the man at the bar more closely than the beer itself. Sal spares a glance to Shirogane, who seems to be returning the interest. Just his luck that he has to witness a whirlwind romance up close and personal, and no mute button to save him.

“You give me ID, I give you booze,” Sal reminds Keith, holding his palm out for emphasis. The kid’s at least smart enough to have had it in hand, and Sal gives it some unnecessary scrutiny for fun.

“C’mon, Sal,” Keith groans, “It hasn’t changed since the last time you saw it, and I’m not getting any younger.” Just as planned, Shirogane’s reaction is curious amusement. It’s not exactly illegal for thirty and twenty-one to do the horizontal tango, but Sal figures it’s better for them to get that topic out of the way sooner, rather than later.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m still amazed it’s not a fake, ya delinquent,” Sal grins and holds the card out for Keith to snatch back. 

“Don’t be mean, boss,” comes Nyma’s voice as she appears with an armful of fry baskets. “You know it’s not Keith’s style to commit fraud, he’s more a grand-theft-auto kinda guy.”

“I was acquitted! _You’re_ the one who had an ankle bracelet for a year!” Keith exclaims, just a hint of a flush on his cheeks as he looks back at his quarry. Nyma scoffs before continuing on.

“And I wore it like high fashion,” she says coolly, walking away to hand out the baskets.

To his credit, Keith clears his throat and boldly takes a seat next to Sal’s newest patron, who offers his bottle for a toast. Keith looks hopeful as he clinks the necks together, and Sal is ready for literally anyone to come up and order something so he doesn’t have to watch this anymore.

“Name’s Shiro, and in my eyes, the only crime you’re guilty of is stealing my breath away.”

Keith chokes on his drink and Sal tosses him a bar towel to clean up the beer he spews onto the bar. From across the room, Sal can see Krolia shoot him a questioning look, clearly wondering if she should be concerned for her son. Sal just shrugs, and lets her redirect her attention to the stranger patting Keith on the back as he tries to catch his breath. When he finally does, Keith has it in him to laugh in disbelief.

“That is the cheesiest pick-up line that has ever been used on me,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I happen to like cheese, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” Shiro grins. “Though I hope the next one won’t choke you out before I get to see you smile again.” He takes a swig of his own, right as Keith says:

“I don’t mind a little choking--”

“KOLIVAN, YOU GONNA ORDER SOME BEER, OR WHAT?” Sal shouts, desperately, over the sound of Shiro sputtering and making even more of a mess on his bar. He deliberately avoids looking at the pair as Keith moves to towel down Shiro’s lap. In fact, his gaze remains averted, even as Keith ushers Shiro toward the restrooms in the back.

The kid might be bold, but he’s not stupid enough to try anything while his mother’s in the same building.

At least Sal hopes so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> too impatient to wait to post, i swear there will be blessedly explicit porn in the next chapter

Keith is not, in fact, stupid enough to try anything while in the same building as his mother, and he’s also not stupid enough to let her (or any of the other Blades, for that matter), see him walk out the front door with a man he just met and really wants to get his mouth on as soon as possible. He holds no illusion that Krolia and the others won’t know exactly what happened when he returns, but he doesn’t want to scare Shiro off by dangling him in front of a pack of wolves before he’s gotten a bite of his own.

So, street smart and stealthy as he is, he ushers Shiro in the hall to the back, past the bathrooms and through the back door of the establishment. He is not surprised to find Rolo on a smoke break in the middle of a rush, and hands him two twenty-dollar bills: one for Sal, and one for Rolo’s silence. Rolo gives them a quick salute with the fingers holding his joint, and Keith continues his mission to get Shiro where he’ll have him all to himself.

The two barely make it around the corner of the building, concealed from prying eyes by the dumpsters kept on this side, before Keith has to release some steam. He quickly pulls on the hand he’s been using to lead Shiro away, and presses him against the wall. He’s left just enough space between them so that Shiro could easily push him away if he wanted. To his utter delight, Shiro pulls him in the rest of the way for a searing kiss, prosthetic gripped tightly around the collar of Keith’s jacket, and his other hand gripped just as tightly under the swell of Keith’s ass.

Keith licks into Shiro’s mouth and groans when he feels Shiro wedge a leg between his. Even with the added height of his boots, Keith is pleased to find that he still has to lean up on his toes (supported by a blessedly thick thigh) to match Shiro’s height.

“Fuck,” Shiro gasps in response to the sharp bite Keith gives his bottom lip. “Baby, you drive me up the wall.” He grins despite the glare Keith gives him.

“If you have time for more cheesy lines, you have time to show me the inside of your truck,” Keith offers. There’s still a chance they could get caught out here, especially with how loudly Keith plans to gag on Shiro’s cock. Fortunately, Shiro seems to be on board with that plan, groaning into the next fierce kiss they share before quickly flipping their earlier roles and tugging Keith toward where he parked his rig. 

There’s not a lot of cover between the bar’s parking lot and the lot across the road where most of the trucks that pass through end up staying overnight. There are no lights over there, so drivers can get some better sleep, but the neon lights from the bar behind them and the brightly illuminated gas stations lining the road are more than enough to see by. 

Shiro spares a glance back at Keith, and the pack of bikes he came with. Keith doesn’t bother looking for himself, not wanting to see who might be out there to witness their escape. Instead he sidles up closer and leans in to tell him,

“I ride the red one. Might let you meet her, if a ride on you turns out to be half as fun.” 

Shiro’s eyes darken, and his hand moves from holding Keith’s to wrap around his hips. Keith shivers when the smooth metal of the prosthetic slips just under his shirt.

“I’d like that, baby,” Shiro tells him, “Wanna see just how good you ride.”   
Keith can’t wait to show him.

\------

Let it be known that Shiro would have worn different underwear today if he had thought he was going to meet the most beautiful man he’s ever seen and immediately get the chance to fuck him. The robot lion boxers were a fun gift from one of his pilot buddies that grew up on the same cartoons as him. They are not his first choice when attempting to hook up at a bar.

Still, he thanks whatever powers may be that he took to heart the advice of his trucker buddy back when he was getting started: keep his cab, his drawers, and his radio clean. 

By the time they get to the back corner of the dark lot where he’s parked for the night, Keith’s patience appears to be wearing thin, and Shiro is once again pinned between a hard place and... a hard place. He has to admit, he’s pleasantly surprised by how easily Keith is able to manhandle him and fit their bodies together like they’re a matching set. Shiro’s early twenties featured a lot more bluster in the bedroom, and that was with partners his age or older. Keith is hitting all his buttons. Strength, confidence, and hair that defies all logic surrounding wearing a helmet for hours at a time. Shiro’s hand is itching to grab it and see if Keith is into that.

Shiro decides to test that theory by sliding his hand up Keith’s back and tease his fingertips at the nape of his neck. Immediately Keith is arching back into it, breaking their kiss with a wet smack and a breathy moan. Shiro seizes the opportunity to thread his fingers into the longer strands in the back, and expose Keith’s neck so he can drag his teeth up from Keith’s collar to the corner of his jaw.

“So fucking hot,” Shiro growls. He bites Keith’s ear and drags his teeth down the lobe, eliciting even more pretty sounds from his throat. “You’ve gotta be the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, let alone hands.”

“What,” Keith pants, slipping a hand between them to grope at Shiro’s cock through his jeans, “You’ve never touched yourself before?” Shiro chuckles and hefts him up on his thigh again, pressing them together in a firm grind. Keith hitches a leg around him to get leverage on the step for getting into the cab.

“As long as you’re touching me, baby, I’m not sure anything else can satisfy me.”

“High praise coming from a guy who hasn’t even let me into his truck yet, let alone his pants.” Keith has a point, and Shiro is quick to shove a hand in his pocket to dig out his keys. For a god blessed moment he even manages to get it in on the first try, and he’s about to make a joke about it when he turns back to see Keith already taking off his jacket and unlacing his boots. Shiro just stands there for a moment, taking in the way that Keith’s tight shirt pulls against his arms and chest. He can hardly see with only the dim light from within the cab, but Shiro knows he’s going to keep the image close on his lonelier nights. He hopes he'll be able to burn this entire night in his mind when it's over, but for now he's more than happy to live in the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha who am i


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let's fucking goooooooooooooo (see end of chapter for applicable warnings/tags)

When Keith looks up at him again, Shiro can see it’s time to get a move on, and he climbs into the passenger side with Keith close behind. No sooner does he get the arm rests out of the way than he finds himself being positioned by Keith’s demanding hands. Shiro’s cab is one of those luxury sleepers, big enough for his comfort, and to keep a fair amount of exercise equipment for his daily workouts. Keith takes advantage of this by dropping to his knees between the seats, spreading Shiro’s thighs to box him in from where he sits sideways in the driver’s seat.

“Let’s get you out of these and into my mouth, huh, big guy?” Keith presses his palm against the hard length trapped in Shiro’s jeans for emphasis. Shiro doesn’t waste his breath, choosing instead to respond by undoing his belt, button, and fly. He leans back against the door, lifting his hips and letting Keith help him tug down his pants and underwear all at once, much to Shiro’s relief. It takes some wrestling once they’re down to the thick of his thighs, but Shiro’s core strength and flexibility make it easy enough to kick his shoes and pants off once they’re down to his ankles.

Just like that, Keith’s running his hands, still clad in his fingerless leather riding gloves, up the insides of Shiro’s thighs. The gloves are real leather, worn soft from use, and combined with the rough calluses on the pads of Keith’s fingers, Shiro knows he could get addicted to the sensation. Shiro’s cock hangs heavy between them, thick and heavy with arousal, and one soft leather palm slips under it to cradle his balls. The other slides against the underside of his cock, pressing it up and trapping it against Shiro’s hip. Shiro tugs his shirt out of the way, revealing his abs, tight with anticipation. He hears as well as sees the sharp breath that Keith takes, and suddenly a hot tongue is on him, just shy of where Shiro expected, and dragging up his treasure trail.

The tip of it dips into Shiro’s belly button, and draws a low groan from Shiro’s chest. He feels his cock attempt to twitch, a valiant effort against the press of Keith’s hand. He’s almost certain he’s dripping dangerously close to the glove, and has a mind to warn Keith about it until he’s rendered speechless by that same tongue dipping down to the root of his cock and starting a wet, slow slide to the top. Deftly, Keith’s hand wraps around to the top side, and keeps the thick shaft trapped between his palm and his tongue. As he reaches the leaking tip, Keith locks eyes with him, and several things seem to happen at once.

The hand on his shaft grips around the base, just long enough to aim it into Keith’s open mouth, and as he sinks down around it, that same hand moves up to grab at Shiro’s arm, which he’d had propping him up where he leaned back over the seat. He adjusts the grip of his prosthetic, holding onto the back of the seat, and lets his other hand be guided to rest atop Keith’s head, where he gratefully grasps the hair at the back of his skull. Shiro squeezes, once, and Keith makes a sound of approval in the back of his throat, teasing hot air over the head of Shiro’s cock right before it nudges the back of Keith’s mouth.

Shiro lets Keith lead in those first few moments, lets him adjust to the length dipping into his throat. A short gag becomes a swallow, and suddenly all Shiro can think of is how hot and tight and wet it is around him. And then it’s more. Keith presses forward, taking more and more of Shiro, more than anyone has ever taken. After a long minute, he makes it all the way to the base. Keith’s nose is snug against his pelvis and his tongue teases the skin of his sac. Keith looks up again, blinking a couple of stray tears from his eyes, which Shiro briefly imagines to taste sweet against his skin. Then Keith slowly begins to pull back, and it’s like a switch has been flipped.

“Oh, _fuck_ , baby, you feel so fucking good, holy shit,” praise pours out of Shiro’s mouth faster than he can form the words in his mind. He almost whines when he feels the tip slip from the tight grip and onto Keith’s tongue again. A fat pulse of pre escapes and spreads across it as Keith grips the base again and uses it to slap the tip against his tongue a couple of times. Then he licks across the slit, collecting another drop and turning it into a sucking kiss around the head. Shiro throws his head back and shouts at the sensation.

“Don’t forget,” Keith teases, lips moving against Shiro’s cock as he drags it across his mouth, “I don’t mind a little choking. Two taps to let up, okay?” As soon as Shiro nods, breathlessly repeating the signal back to him, Keith is dipping down again and swallowing him whole.

“Fuck!”

Now that he has permission, Shiro’s hips seem to move on their own, thrusting as best they can from his seated position. His grip in Keith’s hair adjusts and tightens to pull him flush again, holding him for the two seconds he can bear not to have friction on his cock. He pulls, and he gets close to slipping free from Keith’s throat before plunging back in. The sounds that fill the cab are a lewd duet of Shiro’s deep moans and Keith’s wet gagging. Shiro can feel the slippery mix of pre and spit dripping onto his balls and the hand still working them whenever Keith’s face is pressed against him.

Every few thrusts, Shiro makes sure to pull out all the way. It does the dual purpose of letting Keith breathe a wet gasp of air, and letting Shiro see just how wrecked he is. Keith’s face is flushed and filthy. His eyes remain half open, fixed on Shiro’s face. His tears flow into the mess of spit and pre that escape his mouth. 

Just as Shiro is getting close, he pulls back far enough to see that Keith has managed to get his pants undone and is uselessly groping at himself as he’s used. He gives a confused groan as Shiro lifts him up and gets him seated on the passenger’s side, but he gives no complaint when Shiro licks the mess from his chin into his mouth and turns it into the sinful mockery of a kiss.

“So good, baby,” Shiro murmurs against his lips. “You did so good with your mouth, but I remember telling you how badly I wanna see you ride.” He hauls Keith up on wobbly legs and leads them back to the bed. He’s grateful he’d set it up already, anticipating that he’d at least catch a buzz from his visit to the bar and not want to deal with it when he returned. As it is, he’s able to twist them in the narrow space and throw Keith onto the bed. 

Hands free, he quickly opens one of the lower cupboards to grab a bottle of lube and a box of condoms, both half empty, if only for the ease of clean-up after his alone time. He tosses them toward the pillows and crawls over Keith, eager to even the playing field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> glove kink, deep throating, throat fucking, hair-pulling, under-negotiated kink (there's a safe signal but it's not used, and it's only given in the moment), manhandling, implied sub-space
> 
> will update final chapter tomorrow bc i'm dizzy af haha

**Author's Note:**

> twitter thread gone rogue, honestly thought it would end in a bathroom blowjob lmaoooooo


End file.
